Two Secret Worlds (Cross-over FanFiction)

Percy Jackson is not your average boy: he is a demigod, son of Poseidon. Neither is Harry Potter: he is a wizard and famous for surviving the killing spell.
What happens when one day the two boys wake up in new beds in new places? What happens when their souls switch bodies? **This is my entry for the Cross-Over FanFiction Competition**


3. Magic


Harry’s P.O.V

I walked out of the door and found myself on a big, green field. The sunlight was not leaving a single spot of shadow in the area and the warmth was already heating up my body. Around the field twelve beautifully made buildings stood in a circle. They all had very different looks: Some were low, some were tall, some were oddly shaped and some were looking a lot like those ancient Greek temples I had once seen on pictures in a museum in London with the Dursleys. It was like divinity shined out of all of the buildings. In the end of the field I saw the blue and wavy ocean. The sun was shining on the water, which made it look like diamonds were floating around beneath the surface. To my right I saw a rather large area with big wood tables and benches. Around each table sat a small amount of teenagers and kids, eating what looked like a fresh breakfast meal. Since no one else was to see on the field, I decided to go over and see if I could get some food.

I spotted the one-eyed creature from earlier sitting on a bench, alone. I sat down by his side, thinking that he would probably like some company. I was right: the creature started talking in the same second I sat myself down.

“There you are. I was just wondering where you were,” it said and grabbed a slice of soft bread from a plate. The creature walked over to a big bonfire with it and threw it into the enormous yellow flames. When it came back, I decided to ask it about some things I defiantly wanted to get cleared out.

“What’s your name?” I asked the creature. With a smile he answered: “I’m Tyson, and you’re Percy!” I chose to shut the part of his answer out. I wouldn’t discuss my name with this Tyson.

“And…what kind of creature are you?”

“A Cyclops, but you know that.” Oh, so this was a Cyclops. If Hermione had been here, she sure would have figured out by now what the name of this talking creature was.

“And where am I?” I asked him.

“In Camp Halfblood!”

“What’s Camp Halfblood?”

“The place where we demigods practice our fighting and strategy skills. This is our home, remember?”

“Demigods?!” I asked, surprised. “Like in half human, half god?” Tyson nodded energetically with a big smile on his face.

“Yeah, half human, half Greek god.” All of a sudden his smile disappeared; there for a second, gone the next. “You seem a bit off today. Is something wrong?” he asked me in a worried voice. I could sense that he had a close connection to me…like we had been through a lot and that he would do anything I asked him to. “Percy?”

“My name is not Percy!” I almost spat the words out. He looked perplexed.

“If you’re not my brother, then who are you?” I wondered a bit myself, too. I looked down at my hands. The fingers were not very long or elegant—almost the opposite of my…real hands. I took a hand to my nose, again. There were still no glasses to feel beneath my fingers. I immediately turned to look at Tyson.

“Do you have a mirror?” I asked him. He shook his head as a no.

“Maybe Annabeth has one,” he noted before he left the table. I remembered the girl named Annabeth as the sporty girl from earlier that morning. My eyes searched each and every table for a touch of blonde hair, until I at last found her sitting by a table with a few others not so far away. Her plate was empty and she stood up from the table with a small smile to her friends. Still facing her friends, she began to walk backwards. She didn’t see the big rock behind her, but I did. I jumped up from the bench and ran over to her, just as her foot hit the rock and she fell backwards. Luckily I caught her just before she hit the ground. Her steel grey eyes were looking into mine with a touch of amazement. A lock of her blonde hair had in her fall tucked itself loose of her ponytail and was now hanging loose across her cheek. She blinked and in a brief movement got back up on her feet.

“Thanks,” she said, looking down at the ground. Her hands balled into fists and she clenched her teeth together. I could tell falling over the stone upset her.

“It could have happened to anyone,” I told her.

“Well, not to me,” she said. Something told me that the fall had hurt her pride. It might have been the frustration in her voice and it might have been the expression on her face. She inhaled deeply and pulled herself together.

“So, what’s up?” she asked. I reminded myself of what Tyson said before he left the table.

“A mirror. Do you have a mirror?” I asked her softly. She giggled lightly and I had to make myself concentrate.

“Yes, pretty boy, I have a mirror,” she said and walked off the eating grounds. She waved at me to tell me I needed to follow her. I quickly obeyed her orders and ran up to her. We walked back to the big sun-filled field and stopped in front of one of the buildings. It was grey and had an owl shaped into the pavement just above the entrance. We stepped inside to a room filled with beds and books. It looked like a small library with a few beds for sleeping. Annabeth walked over to a blue backpack and pulled out a nice looking mirror. She gave it to me and I took a look at the mirror's reflection. When I did, I regretted my decision. My hair had turned to a different shade of black: jet-black. My eyes were still green, but not the green that I had known my whole life. This pair of eyes had a deep, sea green color.

“Hey,” Annabeth said, when she saw my mouth dropping open, “are you all right?”

I was not sure that I was all right. The reflection on the glass in front of me was unrecognizable.

   I wasn’t myself anymore.



Percy’s P.O.V

The transfiguration class was taught by a rather old looking, tall lady in emerald green robes. Her black hair was fairly hid away in a bun, which she covered well with a pointy, black hat. She only needed to give a student a short look over her glasses before they went silent.

When I first saw the teacher, even I knew that she didn’t want anyone fooling around in her class. She was the kind of teacher demanding discipline. Ron, Hermione and the class’ other students made sure not to anything stupid, so surely I wasn’t going to do something either. I had asked Hermione about the teacher’s name, and she almost hushed fiercely at me: “Do not call her a teacher. She is a professor, for God’s sake!” She sighed as silently as possible, obviously not trying to let her temper show. “And her name is Minerva McGonagall. And please, remember to call her Professor McGonagall.” I nodded and looked up at the professor by the small blackboard. She pulled out a long wood stick (looking very much alike the one Hermione had had by the breakfast that morning) and pointed it towards a tall pile of plates in the back end of the classroom. I looked in astonishment as the plates one by one hovered up in the air and went on hovering out to each of a student. I felt my mouth drop open as one of the plates landed softly in front of me. Hermione saw my reaction and rolled her eyes at me, as she closed my mouth. Professor McGonagall began to speak with a loud and secure voice, while letting a last plate fly to her catheter.

“Today you are going to practice the Laminam boletus spell,” she said sharply. “I am going to show you how the spell works and afterwards you will try it out for yourselves.” She pointed her wood stick at the plate and said loud and clearly: “Laminam boletus!”

I watched in amazement as the plate in less than three seconds turned from a normal dinner plate to a big mushroom. I would love to threw my hands up in the air and scream out loud “Magic is real!”, but something told me that the timing wasn’t right. I realized that all of the stories I’d been told when I was younger might have been more real than I’ve thought of. Twice this day already I had seen … magical things; when Hermione by the breakfast table made that phone as easily as scratching her neck and now when the professor magically transformed a plate into a mushroom. This school was special. Maybe it was supposed to teach teenagers magic? It would actually make sense, I thought as I looked down the robes I’d been asked to wear this same morning. And it’ll explain the clothes, too.

The professor spoke again, stopping my imaginations immediately.

“Now, wands out!” she demanded. Her words confirmed my thoughts. It wasn’t just me … I really was on a school for magic.

I watched as the class’ students reached into their pockets and each pulled out their own wood sticks—their wands, I reminded myself. I reached down in my own pocket, too, deeply hoping to find a wand. I didn’t know where this boy could’ve hid his wand, but if it wasn’t here in my pocket, I knew I would get in trouble. Luckily, my fingers found a long, pointy thing in the pocket and I pulled out a wand made of dark-looking wood. I looked at Ron who held his wand tightly against the desk in front of him. I quickly did the same as him.

“The words today is quite simple,” Professor McGonagall said. “Repeat after me: Laminam boletus!”

“Laminam boletus,” I repeated with the rest of the class at once.

“Nice and slow, one more time!” We went on like that for a while. McGonagall said the words; we repeated them slowly and clearly as she told us to. At last she told us to do our very best (she also noted that it would be nice for a change not for her to see a half guinea pig getting mixed up with the plate).

I was really excited about trying to do magic, but at the same time I was really nervous. I had never tried out magic before, and all of these students seemed to have tried it a lot more than me. I was just hoping I wouldn’t make myself look too much like an idiot. I folded my sleeves up and took a deep breath. I stared at the plate beneath me and pointed my wand—but it wasn’t really mine—at it. I stared at it and said: “Laminam boletus!”

   Nothing happened.

I tried again. Still, nothing about the plate changed. I turned to look at Ron, who was trying just as hard as me to get the plate to transform into a mushroom. Suddenly his plate started changing and a moment later it was an enormous mushroom. The mushroom started to swell until it at last filled every single inch on his table. Out of nowhere the surface of the mushroom burst right up in Ron’s face. He looked at me with the pieces of the mushroom all over his face.

“I would advise you not to do that,” he said and turned away. I threw my hand over my mouth not to start laughing, but suddenly I went completely still. At least something had happened to Ron’s plate. Mine hadn’t moved at all. I turned to Hermione and saw that her plate wasn't a big non-swelling mushroom. She sat and looked impatiently at the blackboard with an empty look in her eyes. I could tell that she was dying of boredom.  

“How did you do that?” I whispered to her, pointing at her perfect mushroom with my wand. She turned to me immediately.

“It’s quite simple, actually. Just say the words nice and clear like we practiced them. If that doesn’t work as expected, you can try to picture the mushroom in your head.” I didn’t hesitate to try her advice. I looked at my plate once more and pointed my wand to it. I focused as hard as I could and made sure to picture a perfect mushroom in my mind. Then, I cleared my throat and spoke clearly: “Laminam boletus!” A big smile grew on my face as I saw the plate change into a rather big mushroom. I held my wand down for a moment, hoping that the mushroom wouldn’t swell up like Ron’s. Fortunately, it didn’t seem to. Just then, Professor McGonagall passed me, Ron and Hermione’s table. She told a happy Hermione that she had done an excellent job with her plate and then she nodded at me, telling me: “Good job, Mr. Potter.” She walked on through the classroom, and I couldn’t help but smile.

If I really wanted to, I could do magic.

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